


I'd Choose You Again Tomorrow

by 19_Xanadu_19



Category: One Direction
Genre: Angst, Artist Zayn Malik, Coma, Established Relationship, Famous Harry, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hospitalization, M/M, Major Character Injury, Manager Liam Payne, Musician Harry, Musician Niall Horan, Writer Louis Tomlinson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 05:48:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30134925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/19_Xanadu_19/pseuds/19_Xanadu_19
Summary: “We are brokenhearted, but we are not broken. We are unbreakable.” Louis whispers back to him, hand shifting down to trace over the new words as his own eyes catch on a phrase he’s yet to ever have noticed. It’s the first time in hours that the trace of a smile has begun to form in Harry’s eyes. Lighting from within as the words before him lock into his mind and reassure him of what waits for him come morning light.Or. Amidst world wide fame, four internationally successful albums and the very best people around him, Harry Styles has spent the past four years with the love of his life in a coma. Until he wakes up.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 5
Kudos: 25





	I'd Choose You Again Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> Re upload of the (hopefully) edited version !! 
> 
> This is me attempting to write a 'short' and 'cute' fic but of course it ends up being over 40k so... enjoy !!
> 
> Please note that I am by no means a medical professional and therefore any medical terminology or discussion is not reliable information despite my best efforts to not include extensive discussions of medical topics. 
> 
> Chapter updates will be uploaded every Friday (NZT) till completed.

January 2020

London, England

Things are not how they should be, that much is clear the moment the static sounds break through. He aches. Every part of him burning like a livewire underneath an invisible pressure. His hands are locked by his side, the weight of his limbs keeping him trapped where he lies, lips cacked together, eyes stubbornly closed. He feels it however when a warm, foreign hand slips into his, a voice breaking through the static. Whomever is speaking to him he doesn’t know, even muddled between the white noise he knows he doesn’t recognize the voice.

It fades slowly, the murky ringing of his ears giving way to clarity and he makes out the faint, repetitive sounds of multiple beeping machines close by. It only adds to his confusion. Why can’t he see, why won’t his limbs obey him and _move,_ why can’t he open his eyes, why can’t he speak?

“Mr. Tomlinson? My name is Claire, I’m a nurse for London Bridge Hospital. You’ve been in an accident but you’re safe, I need you to do something for me though alright?” A soft voice snaps through his silent questions. Registers the hand resting in his, a soft pressure connecting him between his realm of darkness and whatever scene lies beyond closed lids. “I know everything hurts, I know you’re confused, but I need you to give us another physical sign you’re still here with us alright?” The woman’s voice remains soft, patient with him as he screams at his mind to order some part of his body to move at her request. 

There’s more talking around him, voices other than Claire’s but he can’t make them out between the muddled state of his mind and the jargon with which they speak.

A long, thin tube has been placed in through his nose, wires and needles poking into his skin in numerous places. His throat feels parched, likely from a lack of exposure to constant fluids. He can feel them all now, an overload of too many sensations when just a minute ago he could only register the one thing.

It takes that rush of sensations for him to find the strength in order to flinch his hand in Claire’s. The notion of it strange and tires him instantly. Draining energy from him like free flow, an action so simple bringing a wave of exhaustion racing nearer the surface. Louis knows he’s about to crash, aware that he’s fighting off the darkness enticing him back down under, wherever that space may be.

“That’s it.” Claire tells him and he can hear the smile in her voice. “Welcome back to the world Mr. Tomlinson.”

He can feel the little strength he has remaining ebbing away by the second, he knows he needs to open his eyes however. That he needs to confirm for himself that this isn’t a dream nor illusion conjured up in the depths of his mind. He knows that’s likely not the case, but clarity seems to be his only way of knowing the full truth.

Claire’s hand in his grounds him, works as a promise that someone is here waiting for him to open his eyes and return to the world. It’s steady, like a bridge between the two subspaces and he latches to it with hopes of making it to the other side.

It’s draining and takes almost everything he has to pry apart his eyelids and blink against the brightness that floods them the moment they flutter open.

“Dim the lights!” He hears another voice order.

The next time he manages to open them through the blurriness which coats his eyes he can make out shapes and forms. A blank wall across from him, two figures with sure steps make their war around the bed he’s lain in, and to his left a figure sits patiently looking down at him.

“Over achiever, aren’t you?” Claire’s voice rings clear this time in his head, and he cranes his next towards the woman sitting by his side. The movement is jerky, his head spins at the action but the woman comes into focus before long. The first moment he’s had of true eyesight.

A middle aged woman whom he assumes is Claire smiles down at him, her eyes kind, crinkles softly etched onto her face. Red hair bound in a tight bun and a bright wedding band resting on her finger.

He moves his glance away from her, studying his uncovered arms which are littered with wires injected into his skin. There’s minute, white covered scars in numerous places. Fully healed and faded now but there none the less. As if he’d run through a gorse bush several times over. His chest is covered by a hospital gown which disappears beneath a blanket drawn to just above his waist.

“Can you feel this?” Claire asks him then, removing her hand only to press her thumb softly into the underside of his wrist. He nods in return, if only a fraction.

Another figure, a young man this time dressed in a long white coat approaches Claire’s side. His smile is less affectionate than Claire’s, not any less genuine but as though the man is on a mission and doesn’t care for any distractions.

“Mr. Tomlinson my name is Doctor Quain. You were in an accident, you’re currently in London Bridge Hospital. We’re going to run some tests now that you’re conscious and we’re closely monitoring your condition. Your family is currently being notified that you’re awake.”

There’s something significantly more out of place he recognizes in that moment. Like a piece of him is missing, more so than the scars which now decorate his skin and the strength it takes to do just the smallest of acts. Through the dryness in his throat and ache in his lungs he manages to catch Claire’s eye once more and croaks out the first thing his mind latches onto.

“ _Harry_.”

~~ H ~~

January 2020

Los Angeles, America

There are few moments in Harry’s life he feels as he does before he walks out on to a stage. Simultaneously feeling as though he could combust from the turbulent emotions of standing before a crowd and delighting in the knowledge that this is truly what his life has become.

They’ve been at this for just two nights now, the end of January had brought on the first of his exclusive shows he’d arranged in a few selection locations. The venue tonight was far smaller, only seating five thousand but still the past two nights had felt extra ordinary. _Love On Tour_ technically didn’t start till March but these shows felt intimate to him, a tribute to his fans whom had stayed by his side over the course of his career.

He’d played the forum for the album debut just last month, had barely come down from the high of that in the weeks since but the past few nights being back out on stage felt like he’d come home, was back where he belonged. California would certainly never be his home, never had been, but he no longer despised it as he once had in the thick of things, had learnt to appreciate it for what it offered and leave his true heart back across the Atlantic.

Shrugging on his shimmering black and gold jacket he turns back to face the large dressing room. Niall is sprawled lengthways across one of the low sofa’s, legs every which way whilst somehow managing to cradle his precious vintage acoustic guitar across his torso and strumming a slowed version of a _Sticky Fingers_ song Harry really should have remembered the title of by now considering how many times Niall has blasted it through his speakers over the last two months. Mitch and Sarah sit across from him chatting quietly amongst themselves and behind them stands Ny talking quietly on the phone.

It seems just like every other pre-show routine they’ve all gone through together over the past four years.

“Did Tom get back to you about final production on _Anna_?” Niall asks him without missing a chord.

“Didn’t mention it when I last spoke to him.” Harry replies easily as he makes his way towards the assortment of refreshments lain upon a table in the far left corner of the room.

“I’ve got a writing session penciled in with him next Wednesday, can see how he’s tracking up on it then.”

“Aren’t we leaving for New York on Sunday?” Sarah pipes up, head raising to look across towards Niall.

“I’m not joining you till Thursday now, spoke to Liam about it yesterday.”

“How long have we got?” Ny whispers then, hand covering the mic on her phone, drawing all of their attention.

Harry glances down to the watch on his wrist, the same one he’s worn since he was eighteen despite how many others he’s been gifted over the years. “Twenty-two minutes till stage call.”

Helene will come to fetch him shortly for his warm up, the others soon enough having to find their way to side of stage to prepare to head on. His opener, Kasey, will have just finished her set now, the crew smoothly transitioning the stage into his own design under the cover of darkness and a drawn divider between the crowd and stage.

“Hey are we still planning on going out to _Rossio_ afterwards?” Sarah asks the room and he pours himself a glass of the Aloe juice which sits on the table.

“I’m keen!” Niall calls out and he fights a smile. The other’s share in his amusement, snickering at the eagerness in his voice. “What?” Niall cries, “We’re not coming back to LA for another four weeks I’ll take every opportunity I can to try and snag that recipe from Ross.”

“He’s got a point.” Ny chimes in, seemingly having ended her phone call as she rounds the back of the sofa and plonks down at on the side rest of Niall’s occupied sofa. “I’ve been after his quesadilla recipe for two years now.”

“To be clear,” Niall says blankly, “My love for food isn’t my sole personality trait you know.” That comment finally cracks a smile onto Harry’s face as he catches Mitch’s equally amused expression.

“We’re well aware that you’re simply the best lead guitarist a musician could wish for Ni.” Harry comments as he takes a sip of the cold drink.

“Precisely.”

Ny shakes her head in amusement as Mitch looks on in mock outraged at his remark.

“I feel cheated on.”

“Oh darling, I think Berlin well solved this argument.” Sarah replies with a sly smile and affectionately rests her hand on Mitch’s thigh.

“To be fair to Mitch,” Harry cuts in, “We were all a little bit plastered that night.”

“A little bit?” Ny exclaims in disbelief. “Understatement of the fucking century.”

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” Niall can’t help but retort only to have a pillow thrown roughly at him from Ny as the other three of them laugh.

“Very mature and original of you Irish. We’re touring together for the rest of the year don’t start this war just yet!”

Before anyone in the room gets a chance to reply, their attention is divided again when the dressing room door opens and Liam, head buried down in his phone wanders inside and closes it behind him once more.

“How’s it looking out there?” Harry asks as Liam walks further into the room and stops by his side.

“Good, Kasey performed beautifully, it’s a good crowd out there tonight.” Liam answers in what he’s learnt as his ‘manager tone’. Liam may be one of his best mates but when it comes down to business there’s no man quite like him. It’s as if inside of him lives two different personas. The manager and the actual person. Over the past nine years he’s learnt to recognize the difference between them quite well and despite Liam being five years older than him he still thinks of him as one of his closest friends. “Helene not here yet?”

“Not yet, she should be here any moment though.”

“Eighteen minutes.” Sarah notes.

“We should probably head out there, need to get on soon enough.” Niall says pushing himself upright, swinging his legs around and lying his guitar across his lap.

“Hey, do you know if Andy changed over the song swap on the set list sheets?” He hears Sarah ask of Ny and the two of them immerse themselves in their own conversation as Niall goes about placing his guitar back on one of the racks and Mitch heads towards where he’d folded his own suit jacket for tonight over the back of a chair.

“You set to leave on Sunday?” Liam asks him, tucking his phone away in his back pocket and looking up to face him.

“Should be, didn’t bring that much with me here in the first place.” His house in LA hasn’t felt the same in years. The walls to cramped and confined, the house eerily silent and lonesome so each time he returns now he doesn’t bother bringing his treasured belongings with him. When he heads out into the city it’s often in sponsored clothes nowadays anyway, so he doesn’t have to bother packing more than his home comfort clothes.

When he’d first started out he’d overpack for every trip. But nine years into a professional career and a lifetime worth of changes, he’s lost some of that sense of wonder each time he arrives in a new place.

It’s not the same, not anymore. Hasn’t been in a long time.

Harry’s distracted then by his own phone ringing from across the room. His personal one he notes quickly, of which he only ever gives his number out to the most important people in his life. His work phone taking every other matter and even then, usually it’s Liam or another member of his team responsible for answering such calls.

So every time his personal phone rings he knows it’s important. Knowing his luck it will be his mum or Gemma, wishing him luck before the show. The two of them had flown over here for his _Forum_ shows but were home in England this time around. They’d join him for enough shows on tour to not need to come out to these one-off shows.

He turns away from Liam and heads towards the table where his phone lies. Grabbing for it mindlessly but his heart stops the moment he reads the ID of the caller.

He’s had enough heart stopping calls from London Bridge Hospital in the last four years to warrant a lifetime, it’s only ever twice been for a serious circumstance yet it doesn’t stop his heart from stopping for a moment before it begins to hammer, as if fighting for a way out of his chest. As if it knows that maybe _this_ time it will be _that_ call. The one he’s been dreading for the past four years and twelve days. Thirteen, he supposes now.

His heart is hammering now by the time he realises the call is about to end and he quickly moves to accepts it.

“Hello?” He breathes out shakily, the room around him going deathly quiet.

“Hello, am I speaking with Mr. Styles?” A younger sounding woman asks, pure professional laced in her tone though it’s guarded, emotionless and it immediately sends him spiraling.

“Yes.” He manages to breathe out.

“My name is Amy and I’m calling you from London Bridge Hospital to inform you on an update regarding Mr. Tomlinson.”

He closes his eyes, trying to force oxygen into his lungs.

“Is he ok? Has something happened?”

“Mr. Styles I’m aware that what I’m about to inform you may come as rather a shock to you so can I ask if you have someone around you currently to be with you and that you’re somewhere you feel comfortable?”

No. His heart ceases once more. _No, no, no, no._ This can’t be happening. He’s fine _._ There’s nothing wrong, Louis’s _fine._

He glances up, Liam’s gaze meeting him first and the next instant he’s in front of him. Gripping Harry firmly by his shoulder as if trying to keep him upright though it does little to prevent the little remaining air in his lungs which rushes out in a wave. Lightheadedness overcoming him in a moment. Niall’s at his side shortly after, both of their faces grim and filled with anxiety about why his expression has crumbled and why he can’t seem to breathe.

“Yes.” Is the only thing he can answer with once more. His voice breaking on just that one word.

“Dr. Quain is with him at this moment but he wished for me to inform you as a priority listed associate name and legal contact, that Mr. Tomlinson’s condition was altered at 4:47am this morning London time. An unexpected spike occurred at the time alerting our doctors of his changing condition, upon running several cognitive and response tests Mr. Tomlinson officially regained consciousness at 5:13am, waking from his coma. He is awake currently and has responded positively so far to our studies of his physical and mental condition.”

He vaguely registers the woman, Amy, continue speaking but the phone drops from his hand and he crumbles to the floor as the first sob racks through him. Niall and Liam both swear and drop down beside him, reaching for him as the other’s in the room start forward.

He’s helpless in quenching the sobs which continue to envelope him as he feels Niall pull him sharply to his chest as Liam blindly scrambles for his phone. There’s nothing that could have prepared him for this, despite four years of praying to the stars for _anything_ to change, now that the moment is here, he feels overwhelmingly underprepared.

Helene chooses that moment to push through the door, her smile instantly dropping as she sees the six of them crowded together on the floor. Harry doesn’t make a move to acknowledge her, still can’t manage to breathe properly as Amy’s words dive through his mind on repeat.

He’s alive. He’s ok. He’s _awake._

“Thank you.” Harry finally registers hearing Liam say, manages to raise his head to meet Liam’s expression as he ends the call.

“Liam.” He whispers breathlessly, eyes brimmed with tears.

“He’s ok H, he’s awake.” Liam says a smile breaking out across his face as his own eyes become damp with tears and he reaches out a hand to his knee, presses down reassuringly.

“I need to… I have to…. I need to get to him. _Now.”_ He manages to stumble out.

And Harry will be grateful for eternity in that moment when his voice breaks over those words, with five thousand expectant fans waiting just a few hundred meters away, that his manager is also his best friend when he simply nods.

~~~~

Gemma meets them at the airport the moment they touch down at Heathrow. Liam had told them on their manic way to the airport back in LA that Jay and his own mum were already on their way down to London. Lottie, Felicity and Gemma had all already been in the city and had been the first one’s to arrive at the hospital. Louis had lost consciousness by that time. Expected, the doctors had apparently said. The shock to his system upon waking up from a four year coma would drain him for a long time yet and these next few weeks would be filled with him battling long periods of sleep.

Expected. He’d had to chant it over and over in his mind these past fourteen and a half hours since he got the call. He found it about the only thing preventing him from having a full blown panic attack. That Louis wasn’t going to slip away from him again, that this time his lumber was temporary.

That, and Liam and Niall who had stuck to him like never before. Had not left his side once even as Liam had frantically gone about postponing the concert, informing the rest of his team of the situation and have them deal with the fans whilst simultaneously booking him on the next flight to Heathrow. Harry hadn’t had it in him to ask what had come out in the media of his sudden cancellation, a coinciding fleeing from the country back to his homeland, unbeknownst to the general public. Knows Liam and his team are working tirelessly to transition this into something quiet, give him space and time to piece this all together. It’s overwhelming, every part of this is too much. Though every piece of him feels incompetent to be dealing with this he doesn’t have a choice. This is everything he’s been waiting and hoping for for the longest time. Reality isn’t going to scare him away, despite it’s overbearingness.

It’s nearing 6pm in London, winter greeting them the moment they out of the plane. Heathrow is heaving with people, the only thing they have going for them currently is the large security team that meets them to escort them through the airport and the fact that word hasn’t gotten out that Harry Styles has unexpectantly returned to the UK.

He walks amidst the security detail in a daze. The sounds fading out around him as he focuses on putting on foot in front of the other, knowing that with every step he’s getting closer to Louis.

He’d last been to Willowburn Medical a month ago, the last time he’d stepped foot on English soil. The medical facility where Louis had been placed ten months into his coma when he’d taken those life savingly unexpected first breathes on his own off a ventilator. He’d been housed in the recovery center ever since, till three days ago when he’d done his monthly trip back to London Bridge to assess his condition. And whatever had occurred this time around within him and roused him from his mindless state of rest.

Gemma becomes the first thing he truly focuses on since hearing those vital words across the phone back in LA the moment he sees her. She’s dressed in a long woolen coat, a beanie pressed low down over her head, Michael diligently standing by her side.

Harry breaks from the security detail the moment their eyes lock and he runs straight into her arms. She pulls him into her as fiercely as he grabs for her, burying his head in her waves of unbound hair.

“Harry.” She murmurs to him.

“Is he alright?” He croaks out. He thinks numbly that those are the first words he’s spoken in hours.

“Yes he’s… Lottie, Jay and Fizzy are still there. They haven’t left since they arrived. Mum’s with the twins, she didn’t want you being overwhelmed. He’s still not conscious yet but I’ve seen him. He’s truly ok Haz.”

His tears spill over at her words, feeling as though this is actually happening upon hearing her voice it. That she’s seen him, that this isn’t some sort of fever dream. She breaks away from him as he furiously wipes at his eyes, his actions having drawn the attention of some of the surrounding people waiting near them.

Niall reaches them first, embracing Gemma as always followed shortly after by Liam.

Michael offers him a one armed hug in the mean time, his own eyes slightly puffy.

“Fuck this is really happening isn’t it?” Niall says with a laugh though his voice is thick with emotion.

“Mr. Styles I’d advise that we leave for the cars fairly soon, we’re starting to draw attention.” Their lead security escort voices. He grabs blindly for his carry on bag he’d somehow managing to have thrown into his arms by Sarah as they’d hastily left the venue.

Surrounded by security the five of them push through the exit doors of the airport, waiting before them are two blacked out Range Rovers, a familiar face standing in wait for them.

“Albert.” He greets with as much emotion as he can muster into his voice.

“It’s good to have you home Harry,” The man smiles fondly at him, “I was very pleased to hear the good news.” He says reaching for their luggage and gesturing towards the open door into the back seat.

“We’ll go in the other vehicle, leave you two alone.” Liam says then, aiming for the vehicle behind there’s. Michael knowingly moves after Liam and Niall, leaving just him and Gemma to clamber into the backseat.

The door closes swiftly behind them, Albert seating himself in the passenger seat as their driver sets off.

“Hey.” Gemma starts and tightly wraps her hands around his. “I know this is a sensory overload right now, but we’re all right here for you ok?”

“I know that I just…” He starts but runs out of words to describe how he feels right now. Knowing that Louis woke up, after all this time he’s going to be able to walk into that hospital room sometime soon and have Louis’ blue eyes looking back at him. That he doesn’t have to sit at his bed side, silently screaming for him to just to be there with him, truly be there that is. But on the other hand, how can he possibly prepare himself to witness Louis awake once more, awake, not a lifeless being trapped in the constraints of human flesh. He’s not even entirely convinced himself this isn’t all a fantasy his mind has created as coping mechanism. Isn’t his mind finally cracking under the pressure of the last few years and trying to deal with having the love of his life so suddenly taken from him, where he thought he’d have the rest of their lives, had been so cruelly taken from him, from them both. “How do I do this Gems?”

“However you need to H.”

“Whilst I appreciate the sentiment that doesn’t exactly help.” He comments with a strained laugh, fighting back the tears which sting at his eyes. Gemma’s responding knowing smile does little to comfort him either.

“Would you like to go in alone first? I can get everyone to hold back for a bit. He’s not awake right now but you know… this time’s a bit different.”

“But Jay and….”

“They’ll get it Haz, I promise. They know you’ll need time to adjust to this. They’ve been with him for hours, they’ll understand you wanting some time alone with him first.”

“Yes please.” Harry whispers eventually, glancing out the window to the already dark sky. “I just need a few moments alone with him before I face anyone else.”

“Of course.” Gemma says with a thin smile as she gives his hands another reassuring squeeze.

They’re both silent the rest of the way to the hospital. The radio remains off and neither Albert nor the driver tries to make small talk with any of them either, it’s something he’ll be endlessly grateful for. Gemma knows him, knows there’s nothing she could possibly say right now to help calm him in this state. He’s suppose to be in LA right now, having finished his third night show and instead he’s back in London with his head in a mess and his heart in literal pieces.

He’s walked into this hospital, into Willowburn so many times he’s lost count over the past four years, and not even that first frantic rush to the hospital could prepare him for how he feels right now. That first time he didn’t know his entire world was about to be uprooted. Had just known he needed to get to Louis. But this time round, four years, countless lost nights, ongoing breakdowns and sleepless _weeks,_ he’s walking into this hospital with a Louis that’s been awake for the first time in four years and thirteen days.

Not a sound is made as the engine cuts outside the entrance to the hospital. He doesn’t look up from where his eyes are trained on the leather-bound seat before him. No one rushes him, lets him sit there and attempt to gather his racing thoughts.

Louis is in there. Is in this very building. He’s upped and left five thousand devoted fans and endured a ten hour flight to be here and instead of racing inside he’s sat dumbstruck in the backseat of a car as the night grows colder.

He’s out of his seat before he can take another breathe. Gemma’s hand slipping from his and he runs around the back of the car, blindly racing for the front doors.

There’s a steady stream of people inside the main corridor, but thankfully there’s a front desk free. A young man sat patiently typing onto a desk top computer as Harry screeches to a halt before him.

The young man glances up at him slightly puzzled, typing immediately halting.

“Can I help you sir?” The man asks, eyes widening for a moment with recognition before he schools his features back into one of professionalism

“Tomlinson,” He doesn’t allow himself time to process how his voice broke over the word, “I need to see Louis Tomlinson, in room 137A.”

“Your name sir?” The man asks ever so calmly, though he clearly knows who he is he still tries to keep the code of conduct for visitors into the hospital.

“Styles, Harry Styles.”

“Of course Mr. Styles, a Mrs. Jay Deakin is currently with him at this moment.”

“Thank you.” He says and pushes away from the desk towards the elevators.

Gemma, Niall and Liam enter the building at that moment. He catches Liam’s eye briefly, who only nods at him and the three of them walk towards the desk. Gemma already on the phone, no doubt to Jay or their mum.

Waiting for the elevator takes an eternity. Three others visitors slip in beside them as well as nurse who stands in the corner reviewing a chart.

The young girl, no older than eleven, tucked between her parents stares wide eyed at him. He’s too stunned and mind set on his destination to do much more than offer her a brief smile which doesn’t meet his eyes.

After an agonizing few moments which passes more in terms of forever, the doors ping open to his floor.

The first thing he sees in the moderately calm corridor is Jay. Her eyes are puffy as they met his, lips trembling, and shoulders hunched inwards. He’s only ever seen her look like that once before, when he was seventeen, and that was nine years ago. It’s a time he barely let’s himself think of a certainly does little to reassure him now despite how much of a comforting fixture she is in his life. Has been the entire time. Not even the day of Louis’ accident has he seen how Jay looks to him now.

She doesn’t say anything to him. Her phone clutched in her left hand but she smile’s at him the next moment. A moment passing between them of pure understanding, of two people who have been dealing with an indescribable loss for years of their lives. A mother for her son and a lover for his lifeline. Turning her head a fraction to the right, Jay glances in at a room he knows without having to check belongs to _him._

Jay turns and walks in the opposite direction, where he knows is a waiting room. Knows from the countless times before that he’s been sat on this very floor waiting, always waiting.

She’s giving him space.

And he loves her impossibly more so for doing so in this moment. An unspoken understanding between them developed after years in the others presence.

He walks in a trance like state towards the door. He knows Louis isn’t awake. That he’ll walk into that room just like every other time to find Louis with his eye’s closed and body still.

The adrenaline he’d used to enter the hospital is lost as he arrives outside the closed door, one he’s rather familiar with. He pauses for a moment, or maybe it’s ten minutes, but then his hand is reaching out and pushing open the door.

The consistent sound of the heart rate monitor is the first sound he hears once the door softly closes behind him, the second is the sound of Louis breathing.

He’s hidden from view by the private bathroom to his left, the hospital bed tucked out of sight around the corner. But with every step he takes further into the room, the more becomes revealed until the edge of the bed, followed by a pile of blankets shaped by the limbs beneath it comes into his view.

The changes to Louis’ features in the past four years still sends his mind into a spiral. He can remember with vivid clarity the last time he saw him smile, the way his mouth curved, his eyes crinkling and the soft glow of happiness evident for his eyes only.

His hair is longer now, the chestnut brown hair having been softly brushed to the side, no doubt Jay’s doing. But the soft sound of his breath fills the room, the gentle rise of his chest and slight movement which his body takes with each inhale and exhale fills his senses as he floats on unsteady feet to his side.

A year into these hospital visits he’d began to develop a routine each time he visits Louis. He brings a book, will talk to him about everything and anything that’s happened in his life before then and eventually will begin reading to him. Will massage his arms, shoulders and legs as the physiotherapist had taught him in order to keep some form of muscle stimulation going. It’s simple, all of it is, but it’s his thing.

The trouble with that now is none of it seems significant enough. Not when just this morning Louis had been awake in this very room, and he hadn’t been here for it.

Harry blindly reaches for the armchair nestled beside the bed. Collapsing into it as his legs give out and his breathe becomes shaky. Head falling helplessly into his hands, shoulders shaking with the weight of his current reality, he sits by Louis’ side and cries.

It doesn’t matter how much research he does, how much he learns about damage to the Reticular Formation and how it often leads to inducing one into a coma, even an extended, four year long coma, none of it ever makes him feel the slightest bit better.

It’s in those long hours when he can’t distinguish between time that’s passing now or in the past, that memories resurface. Always in the times Harry least feels the least capable of handling and processing them. It’s a time when he feels that nobody could possibly understand his thoughts, a time when he’s selfish about everything that’s happened. Maybe that’s why the memories floor in, can’t be kept at bay. _Nobody,_ that’s what he’d once called Louis, his nobody. _I think you’re nobody._ He’d told an eighteen year old Louis, run down from an adrenaline high and tired in that moment for whatever insignificant reason. _Nobody knows how to make me happy. But you do. So you must be nobody._

Eventually the worst of his emotions are drained from him. He stumbles forward with his right hand and grasp Louis’ limp hand in his. Clinging to it like it’s his last shred of humanity. Every line and detail of this hand is familiar too him, but he aches so desperately to feel it tighten around his, even just a sliver of movement would do.

For as long as he lives he’ll never forget a moment of his time he’s spent in this room, nor the ICU ward Louis had spent his first few nights in before being moved. Could never possibly rid himself of the memory of blindly racing through the hospital, blind panic his only response back then. Remembers being physically restrained by three members of the hospital security staff, forced down into a chair and a strange woman kneeling before him telling him to breathe. A vivid memory transcribed entirely into a nightmare.

Unaware of how much time truly passes he hears the faint sound of the door opening. Believing it to be one of his or Louis’ family finally giving out on their patience he’s surprised when Claire pokes her head around the corner instead.

Of everyone he’s met throughout this entire ordeal, none of them have left such a large impact on him as Claire. The middle aged woman who’s been here through it all, the very person who’s arms he collapsed into when he’d first came blindly rushing into this hospital on that fateful day. She’s been here through every silent breakdown he’s had whilst sitting by Louis side, all the shaky moments, tears and readings.

“Hi petal.” She says softly to him as she leans against the corner wall, uttering the nickname he’s long since become familiar with.

“Were you here?” He chokes out.

“Where else would I have been?” She answers with that heartbreakingly gentle smile which belongs uniquely to her. “I spoke to him.” Claire continues after a moment. “Spoke for the first time to the man I’ve known for four years yet to him I’m a stranger.”

“Is he in pain?”

“No petal, he’s not in any real pain. His body is just confused, it’s restarting, trying to figure out how to function again. Like an engine left to long without running. He’ll come around eventually but until then he’s going to sleep.” She takes one look at the way his expression falls and hurriedly continues, “He’ll sleep for now but this isn’t the same as last time petal. He’s come back once, he’ll do it again. He’s strong your Louis.”

“I know.” He stutters out, another wave of tears threatening to surface as he tightens his grip on Louis’ hand.

It’s a long time before either of them speaks or moves again. “Jay, Lottie, Fizzy and your mum are here if you’d like to see them.”

He looks up at her words, reluctant to move away from Louis now, Claire takes in his hesitancy and adds, “I can invite them in if you’d like?”

“What happened to your three at a time rule?” He tries to joke but falls flat when his voice breaks halfway through. It makes Claire smile though at his failed attempt and he supposes that will have to do

“I’ll make an exception just this once young Harold.”

She disappears for a moment, the door opening for a long while before a string of familiar, comforting faces step into the room.

This time Jay doesn’t hesitate before she starts for him. Her arms are wrapped tightly around him just as he manages to pull his hand away from Louis, throwing them around her waist and burying his head into her.

“I’m so glad you’re here.” She whispers to him, hand running repeatedly over his hair, lips pressing to his temple.

Harry manages to stand on uncertain limbs before Lottie and Felicity surge forward into him, both of them angling to pull him tighter to them and he clings to them back just as desperately.

His eyes met his own mum’s last of all. The tight-lipped smile Anne sends him is enough for his tears to resurface as he throws himself at her and holds her tighter than anyone.

“Oh love.” She says to him as the first of his tears overflow. “It’s gonna be alright, he’s coming back to us.” He remembers those words, the very words he’d heard spoken to him back on that day. Hearing them now as he stands just meters away from a Louis who’d been awake just hours ago sends a wave of emotion through him to powerful to possibly restrain.

“The others are downstairs, they wanted to wait around for a while.” Fizzy says to them all when he finally extracts himself from Anne’s arms. He just nods, the fact he hasn’t slept in over a day and a half hitting him now as he sways on his feet. The emotional strain of these events draining him ever the more.

“You look like you’re about to pass out H, when was the last time you ate or slept?” His mum questions as she presses the back of her hand to his forehead.

“I’m not leaving this room.” Harry says determinedly.

“Believe me, I know that sweetheart.” His mum answers, a genuinely amused smile breaking through.

“We’d have to drag you out of here kicking and screaming, we know.” Lottie says to him with the smallest hint of a glint in her eye.

He’s not the only one who’s exhausted, looking around at the four women in the room with him he takes in how tired they all look. How much stress and worry currently weighs them all down.

“Who’s with the twins?” He eventually asks Jay.

“Dan drove down and arrived an hour ago at Lottie’s apartment, they’re all there.”

“Good.” He nods, “You always know if it gets to crowded to go to one of our homes.” After all this time he has yet to think of his and Louis’ English houses as just _his_ , they’ve always been _their_ homes. It’s different in America, where Louis had rarely been able to travel to with his own profession, he’d always thought it one of the main factors as to why he’d never felt truly settled there. America felt like work, England would always be their home.

“Thank you sweetheart.”

“Claire explained to us that he’s likely to sleep through tonight.” Fizzy explains after Jay and Anne practically force him back down into the armchair

“I’ll stay right here as long as it takes.”

“Of course love.” His mum answers crouching down beside him with a comforting arm around his shoulders. “I’ll go down to the cafeteria and grab you some food, you should really eat before you try and get some sleep.”

“Thanks mum.” He mumbles back as she stands, moves around the others and leaves the room.

“You know Claire or one of the doctors will wake you the moment anything was to change.” Fizzy reassures him as she perches on the edge of the hospital bed besides Louis’ calves.

“Doesn’t make falling to sleep any easier.”

None of them have a response to that, all well too aware from their own stress over the situation to argue his logic. He’d only ever once tried a sleeping tablet to get him through the night, just the once two weeks after the accident when he physically and mentally couldn’t stand another hour without proper sleep. He’d never forget what had happened whilst he’d been out to the world, sat here in this very room, when he’d woken to find an empty room and panicked blindly for five minutes before he’d found someone who could explain to him what had happened.

It was the third time he ever though he’d lost Louis for good, and it was far from the last.

Lottie nestles herself down by his side, one leg balancing herself on the side of the arm chair as she leans her head down to rest lightly atop his own.

“I’m really glad you’re here H.”

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

“We’re gonna get him back.”

“He’s coming back to us.”

~~~~

City lines peering in from the windows greets him when his eyes blink open. The time on his watch reads 1:32 in the morning.

Anne had taken Lottie and Fizzy back to their flat for the night. With Dan and both pairs of twins there were far too many people to all fit inside their two bedroom London flat, instead they’d headed for his public London apartment. He’d offered their private home to Niall and Liam but they’d both declined, reasoning it was his own private space and in a time like this he’d need that familiar space to retreat too. Harry had been too exhausted to state that he wouldn’t be leaving this hospital any time in the near future. No one had argued against him there.

Claire was the only one who’d put any real effort in trying to coax him home to get a proper night’s sleep though she’d quickly halted in her argument when he hadn’t so much as sent a wavering gaze towards the doorway.

The sound of footsteps is what rouses him from his light slumber, stirring awake just as the red headed woman angles around the corner to come into view.

“Morning petal.” She hums to him, smiling as she steps up beside Louis’ bed and begins noting down his charts.

“Anything?” He asks after a minute of silence.

“No significant change yet, we’ll see how he is in another two hours.”

“Do you ever sleep?”

“I’m secretly immortal, immune to the trials and tribulations of mankind.” She jokes to him and it brings the smallest of smiles to his face.

“Thank you Claire.” Harry says in earnest.

“Of course petal.” She answers, glancing up to him briefly. “When I spoke to him yesterday, he did manage to speak you know.”

“I thought Doctor Quain said actions such as speech are expected to redevelop later upon recovery?” He asks puzzled.

“Without consciousness it’s really quite difficult to predict the extend of any brain damage, in general cases, a four year coma would leave any patient in a vegetated state. I tell you this because I know you’re all too aware of the possible outcomes of Louis’ mind state and I don’t want you to go into the next few weeks blindly. But hope is needed at all times, especially in medical cases, and in this instance I think everyone involved in this young man’s life could use another spark of hope.”

“He really spoke to you?”

“He said only one word. I was talking to him, the moment I came into the room I sat beside him trying to coax a physical response beyond what alerted us to his change in condition. It took a while, but his hand flinched in mine and a minute later the first sign of movement in his eyes began. It took a few more minutes after that but he did it eventually.” She pauses then, looking up from the chart towards Louis’ face. “You were right about his eyes, they really are quite a magnificent shade of blue.”

He chokes on a laugh, or perhaps it’s a sob as he tears his gaze away from Claire to look at Louis’ face.

“Harry.”

His head turns towards her at the sound of his name.

“The word he spoke was your name.”

“What.” He states blankly.

“It was the only thing he said, looked at me and said Harry.”

His grip on Louis’ hand tightens once more without his knowing.

_I’m right here._

_Come back to me_

He screams silently towards Louis with everything he has. Louis doesn’t so much as flinch.

~~~~

Jay joins him once more at first light. She looks as worse off as he is, eyes swollen and body exhausted. A second armchair is brought into the room and she sits quietly by his side, their only contact her right hand slotted into his as he holds onto Louis with his other.

It’s nearing 9am before anyone else joins the, asides from Riley, Claire’s stand in now her shift has ended.

“How’s he doing?” Gemma asks when she follows Lottie into the room. Riley glances up at the sound from where she’s stood on her routine checks on Louis’ condition. The three visitor rule per patient has always been slightly bent when it comes to their families.

“There’s little change to his vitals, he’s stable and in a predicted state currently.” Riley explains, long having learnt that none of them asides from Jay have any real medical terminology knowledge and require hearing far more simplistic explanations for his medical state. 

He’d tried over the years to learn all that he could, but whenever he’d had to read over the possible lingering effects from the injuries Louis had sustained, or the prognosis of being in an extended coma, even of a ventilator, it left him light headed and ill.

“Maybe you should go for a walk sweetheart, just so you can stretch your legs a little, we’ll stay right here with him.” Jay says kindly to him once Riley steps out from the room. He doesn’t want to leave Louis’ side for a minute but he’s spent enough time in hospitals now to know if he stays here too much longer he’ll go stir crazy.

He reluctantly pulls himself out of the armchair, the only other time he’s done so since he’s arrived is to greet everyone and to use the bathroom. Taking one last look at Louis he forces himself out of the door.

The ICU corridor is bustling in the light of the new day. Unlike last night there’s a steady stream of staff and visitors navigating their way around the corridor. Heading subconsciously towards the elevators, not entirely sure where he’s heading he doesn’t notice his name being called till a hand grabs him by the shoulder.

Startling at the notion he spins around only to find Niall and Liam before him.

“Hey mate, how you holding up?” Niall asks him first, removing his hand from his shoulder.

Harry breathes out a shaky reply, running his hand through his hair, not for the first time wishing he still had his long hair so that he could hide behind it. “M’ coping.”

“Want us to walk with you or do you want some space?” Liam asks, eyes brimmed with concern.

“A distraction would be nice right now, been too caught up in my own head.” He answers as they start back down the other direction towards the waiting room. “How was the response to the show?”

Liam gives him a skeptical look at first, as if questioning if this is really what he wants to talk about. After a nod of reassurance he starts, “There was a lot of confusion at first, fans were pretty upset but Mitch went up on stage after you left and talked to them, seemed to settle things for a bit. We’ve kept the narrative that you’ve had a family emergency back in the UK, that’s all the fans know. You weren’t recognized anywhere here yet, though there have been some pictures from leaving LAX and your arrival into Heathrow. Fans are being great about it now, got a fair few trends going on Twitter.”

“I’ll release something later on, just need some time to clear my head and know what the next few days are gonna look like.”

“Harry.” Liam stops him just as they reach the waiting room. “You’ve just found out Louis woke up from a four year coma, I don’t give a shit what the fans and media thinks of all this, my first priority is you right now and I’m not going anywhere, nor are you releasing shit until things have settled for a bit alright?”

He pulls Liam into a hug then, at a loss for words and entirely too overwhelmed at everything right now.

“Come on,” Niall says after they’ve pulled apart, “Let’s get some coffee into you.”

The three of them make their way inside the largely empty waiting room. Only a middle aged couple with a young child sit huddled together in the far right corner, a teenager sat by himself on his phone and a young man sat well apart from one another.

His phone rings just as he takes a seat in the fading chair between them both. Reaching into his pocket he pulls free the small device and glances at the caller ID.

“Hey.” Harry answers as he raises it to his ear.

“Hey H, we wanted to see how things are. Are you with him at the moment?” Sarah’s voice relays down the line to him. It must be impossibly late back in LA but he’s endlessly grateful they’re still calling to check up on him.

“Just left him for a moment, I’m with Li and Ni. He’s doing alright.”

“How are you dealing with things?” Mitch’s calm tone comes next.

“Barely keeping it together to be honest.” He says and feels Niall’s arm slide around his shoulders.

“You’ve got amazing people around you H and he’s in the best possible hands, he’ll pull through.”

“I know, I couldn’t do this without everyone.”

“You’ve been so strong for so long Harry,” Sarah says quietly, “He’s holding on and fighting for it too you know.”

He goes silent, breathing quietly into the phone as he feels tears prick in his eyes. He doesn’t want to cry anymore.

“We’ll let Liam and Niall take care of you now but you know we’re both always here for you H, we love you.” Sarah goes on.

“We’ve got you man, lots of love.” Mitch echoes her sentiment.

“Love you both too, stay safe alright?”

“Course, talk soon H. Love you, bye.”

“We went and saw Clifford last night, he’s with Dan and the younger twins.” Niall says after the call ends and a long stretch of silence has passed. He perks up at the mention of the curly haired dog.

“How is he?”

“Perfectly content as always, was quite excited to see us.”

“Think I could get away with bringing him up here if I said he was my support animal?” He tries with a smile and watches the way Niall’s eyes light up at his attempt at light heartedness.

“I’m sure if you bat those eyes at the right people you’d find you could probably accomplish that. The Styles charm and all.

“Just wait till Claire gets back,” Liam buts in, “She’d help you sneak him in herself.”

He smiles at the image that brings to his mind. They’d done it once before, Louis’ fourth trip back to London Bridge in his second year in the coma. Had snuck his dog through the back staff entrance and up through the elevators at 3am into Louis’ room. Clifford had been ecstatic to see Louis and spent the entire rest of the night curled up on the bed at his side despite his size. Apart from his family, which in his mind fully included the entire Tomlinson - Deakin brood, Liam and his bandmates, Clifford had been one of the few saving graces of his sanity these past few years. A piece of Louis he could hold to his heart and never faltered to put a smile on his face, just like his owner.

Travelling always felt less without Clifford, he’d flown him over to America during his tour for his third studio album, his self-titled. Having him with him on the tour bus had been the only thing to keep him sane, it was his first album release and tour without Louis there with him and those long nights had dragged into infinity.

With such a short stint in America for releasing _Fine Line_ last month he’d left Clifford in the capable hands of Gemma and Michael. Though Lottie and Fizzy would often take him to theirs for days at a time.

“Where did you both go to last night?”

“To mine, it’s closest.” Liam explains, his phone dinging with a notification he ignores.

“Maya happy to have you back home?” He asks of Liam’s fiancé

Liam smiles at that, leaning down to rest with forearms across his thighs. “Yeah, told her I was coming back when we were at LAX, she sends her love.

Nodding in reply he glances around the room at the few other occupants, wondering what personal struggles they’re each dealing with. No one pays him, Liam or Niall any attention.

“If you’re still after a distraction Tom rang last night.” Niall starts, “Said to pass on his love to you then said he’s done with the production on the song.

“Really?” He says with as much interest as he can muster. Harry truly loves these new songs he does, but his mind is whirling with everything that’s happened in the past twenty four hours and his heart aches to go back to Louis

“Sent it through and it sounds fucking epic.”

_He’s been out here ten minutes, he can go ten minutes without being by his side._

“I’ll talk again with the rest of the team about releasing it as an EP.” Liam continues.

_Maybe he can’t. He should go back._

“Thought we weren’t releasing _Anna_ or _Medicine_ as EP’s?” He queries.

“It’s up to you and the team really, think they’ve come round on both of them now.”

“I’m thinking that part in _Medicine_ we have the lights go off, stop the music for a full count then blast back into it.” Niall tries drumming his fingers on the hand which isn’t still draped over his shoulder

“Could work.” Muses Liam.

Too away with his thoughts he stands. “I think I need to go back in, it’s not doing my head much could to be away too long, not this soon anyway.”

Niall and Liam share in the sympathetic looks they send his way as they slowly stand too. None of them say a word as they trail after one another back out into the corridor.

“Harry!” A voice calls out from the far end of the corridor. His eyes snap up and land on a familiar head of dark hair

He wraps Zayn in a tight embrace the moment the other man reaches him. Zayn sags into him, as if he too had little strength left to do much else.

“I came as soon as I could, I’ve been in fucking Japan and I was asleep when Gemma texted me. I woke up to all these missed calls from Lottie and her and then I came as soon as I could get onto the next flight.” Zayn rushes out once he’s pulled away from him.

“I’m just glad you’re here, have you seen him yet?” He asks.

“No, I literally just arrived. Don’t know which room is his.”

“I’m heading back now I’ll show you.”

“Niall, Liam, good to see you.” Zayn says noticing the two other men for the first time.

“You too.” They’re less familiar with Zayn, Louis’ best friend since they were small children. After Harry had meet Louis when he was sixteen, Zayn had immediately become one of his closest friends, one of his only outside of the music industry. As a now internationally renowned artist he didn’t see much of him nowadays between both of their busy schedules. It didn’t stop them from meeting up when they could, and he knew Zayn stopped by to see Louis every time he was in the city.

“I’m sorry I didn’t ring you earlier, head’s been a bit of a mess recently.” He tries to explain but Zayn cuts him off before he can apologise any further.

“Mate, honestly I don’t know how you’re still forming coherent speech, I’m amazed by your strength in this lad honest.”

“It’s all a bit of a front you know that right.”

“We know H, but this is us you don’t need to fake anything. We aren’t exactly gonna go rat you out to the media are we?” Niall muses humorously.

“Oh, you never know.” Liam replies joining in on trying to make the situation feel lighter. “Never say never, could use a few extra pounds in the bank.”

They all laugh slightly at that, as if they were just four friends and not faced with a daunting and uncertain circumstance. A manager, an artist, a musician and a singer. Four grown men trying to keep themselves together.

Liam and Niall turn back towards the waiting room with a final wave of goodbye leaving he and Zayn to travel back down the corridor towards Louis’ room.

“How’s he doing?” Zayn asks more solemnly than before

“There hasn’t been any change since I arrived, he looks as he always done to be honest.”

“But he spoke right?”

“Yeah.” He mutters as they push through the doorway. “He spoke.”

Jay’s gone from his bedside, instead they walk in to find Gemma and Lottie slotted uncomfortably together on the armchair talking quietly to themselves. The moment both of the young woman spot them both Lottie is up from the chair and throwing herself into Zayn’s arms.

“You alright little one?” Zayn says, voice thick with emotion.

“No.” She mutters back to him.

“Course not, sorry.”

“No it’s… it’s what everyone asks isn’t it? No one knows what to say so you chose the one thing you already know the answer to.”

“You’re not wrong.” Zayn says as the two of them pull apart. Harry watches as Zayn’s gaze filters past Lottie and lands on Louis’ mostly still figure. “Hey Lou.”

Zayn approaches the other side of the bed from the arm chair, carefully working around the machine and wires that are attached to Louis’s body. “We’re really all waiting for you this time round so if you’d like to come back to us it would save us a lot of grief you know.” He continues with a fond smile.

Harry moves around the bed to stand beside Gemma. She reaches out slowly and grasps his hand, her silent comfort grounding him in the moment.

The four of them set together in relative silence. Watching, intent as ever for the smallest of signs that Louis will stir.

Daylight is streaming in through the newly opened curtains by the time other figure joins them in the room other than Riley taking her usual rounds.

Daisy and Phoebe fling themselves at him before anyone else. He catches the two teenage girls in practiced fashion, clinging to them both.

“Hi Hazza.” He hears Daisy mutter to him.

“He’s going to be ok this time right?” Phoebe asks him next, the room otherwise a chamber of silence.

“He’s got all of us waiting for him the moment he wakes up, because he’s truly coming back to us this time.” He tells them, trying to convince himself of his own words.

“I’m glad you’re back. We missed you.”

“I missed you guys too."

Neither of them let go of him, instead taking one of his hands each and standing diligently by his side as they turn to their brother. He catches Dan’s eye and smiles graciously towards him, the same smile reflected back at him.

“Your mum’s taking Clifford for a walk.” Phoebe breaks into the silence.

“He’ll enjoy that.” He answers her.

“Dais and Pheebs you know Li and Ni are here you wanna go see them for a bit and leave Zayn and Harry alone with Lou for a bit? Is that alright?” Lottie asks, catchy the expressions across both he and Zayn’s faces.

“Ok.” They both agree. Lottie reaches out and replaces her hand in both of theirs and he sends her an appreciative smile as she leads them out of the room. Dan follows after the, and Gemma stands, places a kiss to his temple and then she too walks from the room.

“Fuck, it never gets any easier does it?” Zayn says once they hear the door close. It’s one thing he’s always liked about Zayn, his willingness to address the truth in any given situation.

“No, it fucking doesn’t.” He says taking up his spot in the arm chair once more, reaching to take Louis’ hand back in his. Needing to feel a physical weight

Louis’ hair has been brushed back since he’d left, swept off his head like that it makes him look like he used to in his early twenties. Days the two of them would spend lounging around on beaches across the world, travelling, exploring, experiencing new sensations and loving one another openly to the world.

“You’re coming back to us Lou.”

~~ L ~~

It’s a similar sensation as to when he’d last surfaced. He’s unable to determine just exactly what that stretch of time has been but it feels easier to sort through the onslaught of noises, sounds and smells.

His hearing clears first, this time there’s no doctor’s racing orderly around him, just the sound of quiet voices. He can’t make out what they’re saying past the insistent, steady beeps of a monitor to his right.

The feeling of heaviness, of being weighed down still courses through him though through it all he can feel a warm, large hand clasped in his. It’s comforting, the solid weight which moves fractionally every so often as if the occupant is fidgeting beside him. The skin is smooth in his hand, leaving him longing to be able to run his thumb over it and trace it’s lines. A curious desire, seeing as he is yet to open his eyes. He wonders for a moment whether the hand belongs to the woman who’d sat by his side when he’d last been awake, Claire, he thinks her name might have been. But there’s a part of him that registers that this feels different, familiar in a way that’s both simultaneously intimate and reassuring

“… and perhaps then you could look at postponing till the latter half of the year. We don’t know how this is all gonna turn out yet, it’s still far too early to be making these kinds of decisions.” A voice trickles in through the muddled mess in his mind, one that sounds achingly familiar to him.

It’s the voice which speaks next that makes his breath hitch, “When my head is clearer I’ll talk to Liam but for now I’m not going anywhere.” He knows that voice, would know it anywhere in anytime and he _needs_ to open his eyes because he’s here, he’s right there and Louis can’t see him.

His hand. He realises in the next moment, that’s _Harry’s_ hand in his, is the person sitting beside him.

He fights with everything in him, through the thickness clouding his mind and exhaustion coating his limbs he fights up towards the surface. Light filtering in as his senses restart and he feels each part of him come back to life. A twitch, all he needs is to move a fraction to alert Harry that he’s here, that he can hear him.

Struggling through a wave of nausea, his head spinning and limbs like a weighted trunk, his index finger presses into the underside of Harry’s hand. It’s featherlight, a barely there gesture but the talking stops.“ _Zayn_.” He hears Harry speak ever so softly. “Did you…”

“Louis!” The first voice filters through, another hand pressing down lightly on his lower thigh

“Page Claire!"

There’s a muffled sound a feet which drifts around inside his head and in the next moment he feels a painstakingly soft hand caress his check.

“ _Louis_.” Harry whispers to him, closer now, as if he’s leaning above him. Because this is Harry, _his_ Harry. The man he has loved since he was eighteen years old.

He’s been in the dark for so long now, but there’s light above him, there’s life and he’s fighting with everything inside of him to reach for it. It’s within his grasp, dangled tauntingly above him waiting for him to surge up towards it. “Louis please, please come back to me.”

“Claire he…” Zayn’s voice once more.

“Harry tell me what happened.” The woman’s voice from before rings through.

“Louis, Louis please.” Comes Harry’s answer, his hand tightly grasped in one hand and his check gently held by the other.

“Harry, petal, what happened?”

“Please Louis, I love you please come back.”

He surges up past that last layer and opens his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think !!


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